


It's always been right in front of me

by mm8



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: ASL, American Sign Language, Barebacking, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Numbers, Canon Disabled Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Sex, Coming Untouched, Deaf, Deaf Character, Disabled Character, Dry Sex, Emotional Constipation, First Time, Frottage, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Spoilers for Season 2, Pre-Series, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Sex with little or no lube, Spit As Lube, There's some plot I swear, Top Wrench
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:37:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7698562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm8/pseuds/mm8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At this moment, he didn't care if Wrench was kissing him because of he'd almost died, or if he generally had affection toward him. The only thing Numbers knew was that he <i>wanted</i> Wrench, and in this moment, his partner wanted him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's always been right in front of me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SegaBarrett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/gifts).



> First time I have written Wrenchers! I have wanted to for ages, so this was the perfect excuse. Hope it's okay.

New York City was a shithole. It's nothing but cramped, hot, smelly, and full of fucking gigantic rats. If at all possible, Numbers avoided the city. Everytime he was there the whole atmosphere made his skin crawl. 

Fargo had assigned them to murder a heroin kingpin in Hell's Kitchen who had made the poor decision to take more than his share of the profits. Finding the guy was easy. He was a prominent heart surgeon at St. Luke's. They staked out the hospital for a couple hours, and when he came out, they grabbed him, pulling him into a nearby alley.

Numbers stood back, preferring to watch as Wrench held the guy up against the grimy brick wall. His partner had his handgun against the kingpin's forehead.

"Do you know what you did?", Numbers asked calmly, his voice even and steady.

The guy was breathing in short, rapid breaths. "N-- n-- n-- n-- no."

"You got _greedy_."

The kingpin's eyes widened as his palms scraped against the wall. "Please! I'll do whatever you want! Did Mr. Tripoli send you? I swear I won't screw him over again. Just let me live! I have a wife! Two kids! You don't want to be responsible for them becoming orphans, do you?"

Numbers rolled his eyes. He _hated_ this part. The begging was always so fucking pathetic. Everyone did it and said the same things. After years of hits, it bored Numbers to death.

Numbers was in opening his mouth to tell him that it was too late for excuses, when the guy decided he wasn't going to play ball. In an instant, the kingpin shoved his partner backwards, and practically threw himself onto Wrench, pummeling his fists against any part he could reach. 

Numbers looked on since he knew that Wrench was powerful enough to take on this scrawny man. Wrench connected his fist with the other man's nose with a resounding _crack_ , knocking the guy back against the brick wall. Numbers noticed that the Wrench had bloody knuckles from the hit. They'd have to clean that up later.

Just as Wrench started rapidly punching the guy in the chest, the kingpin pulled out his own Glock that he had concealed on his person.

A lot of thoughts went through Numbers' head in that second.

_Fuck, he's carrying! Why the fuck didn't we check him? We always make sure to that the target was clean. Fuck, fuck, Fuck!_

_I can't let him die. I can't let him die. I can't let him die not knowing the truth._

Numbers whipped his own Glock out of the holster, taking a moment to aim at the target's head, hoping that he didn't miss and shoot Wrench by accident. He pulled the trigger and the bullet flew, penetrating the side of the guy's skull. Without a silencer, the sound of his gun going off was deafening. Of course, no one came rushing into the alley to see what was going on.

That was a plus side to New York City. No one gave a shit if they heard a gunshot.

The guy slumped to the ground, eyes open and his brains caked the brick.

 _"You're getting sloppy,"_ he signed as he put his gun into the holster in the back of his pants. 

Wrench stared at him like he was the most amazing thing in the universe.

In three strides, Wrench had crossed over to him, was in his personal space, mere inches from his mouth. Numbers' throat felt dry as he gulped.

Wrench signed with shaky hands, _"Can I fuck you?"_

Numbers was completely taken aback. He _must've_ misinterpreted that. He asked for Wrench to sign again, and his partner did, and Numbers got the exact same result.

That shit came of _nowhere_. Why… why was Wrench even offering that? He had never hinted at this before. They hadn't done anything romantic or sexual all the years they'd been paired together. Not that Numbers didn't want Wrench to fuck his brains out, it was just… _why_?

"Are you sure?" Numbers said out loud.

Wrench made a fist, raised and lowered it by his wrist. _"Yes."_

Number's nodded dumbly.

Wrench closed the small gap between them, his large hands framing Number's face, as he advanced, pressing his lips against his own. Numbers moaned into the kiss. This was shit that he'd dreamed of for _years_. His secret desires were coming true. Numbers opened his mouth, and Wrench kissed him harder, pushing his tongue inside of his mouth. 

At this moment, he didn't care if Wrench was kissing him because of he'd almost died, or if he genuinely had affection toward him. The only thing Numbers knew was that he _wanted_ Wrench, and in this moment, his partner wanted him back.

Numbers bucked his hips against Wrench's groin. He could feel that his partner was just as aroused as he was. He ground their clothed erections together. Fuck, felt _amazing_. He hadn't done this since he was a horny teenager. The feel of his strained member rubbing Wrench's clothed cock made him more hungry for his partner's touch. 

He knew it was wrong. Fargo didn't like their hitmen forming attachments, like fucking Jedi. He remembered when he first joined up with Wrench, there was a man and woman pair, Mr. Safe and Ms. Rope. At the time, they were Fargo's top guys. They were in-sync and got the job done, no questions asked. Until Mr. Tripoli got wind that they were screwing, and had actually not completed their mission cause they were too busy fucking in a motel. When they came back from their failed assignment, Numbers only saw them one last time as the Kiwi was dragging Ms. Rope's body down the hall, her red hair soaked in blood and it left a stain on the carpet as she was pulled away.

Maybe it was worth it though.

Numbers withdrew from Wrench's touch. "I don't wanna fuck next to a corpse."

Wrench tugged at his wrist and pulled him out of the seedy alley. He pushed his way through the busy street, shoving pedestrians who were blocking his path. Numbers felt a little helpless, like he was going along for the ride as Wrench navigated. His partner stopped at their old Camaro, wasting no time in getting the car keys out of his pocket, unlocking the back door and shoving Numbers inside. 

Numbers laid on his back, his head hitting the window. It was uncomfortable, but he didn't give a shit. He made quick work to undo his own belt and zipper. Numbers freed his erection; it was rock hard and dripping with precum. He shimming his pants and boxer briefs off, carefully laying everything on the floor. He moaned as Wrench took hold of his cock and gave it a few languid strokes. Numbers closed his eyes, lost in the moment.

Without any warning, Wrench swallowed the head of Numbers' cock, still pumping the shaft as he sucked.

Numbers writhed beneath his partner. Fuck, Wrench's mouth was hot and tight. Wrench knew just what to do with his tongue. 

Suddenly there were two thick fingers in his ass, stretching him open. Numbers bucked his hips upwards, and curses incoherently. Wrench's fingers probed deeper, massaging his insides. When he added a third digit, be managed to curl his fingers as he thrust, and found Numbers' sweet spot. Numbers couldn't even form full sentences. The sensation of his partner finger fucking him and giving him head at the same time almost made him see stars.

Wrench withdrew, to Numbers' dismay, making the sign for no, along with another that Numbers didn't understand.

"What?" he queried.

Wrench sighed in frustration. He spelled out the words, _"N-O R-U-B-B-E-R."_

Number blinked. "I like it better without a condom," he confessed. "As long as you don't mind."

Wrench stared at him for a long moment, not making any sort of move which was pissing off Numbers; so he lifted his hips, and spread his legs so that one rested on the backseat and the other on the headrest of the driver's seat. 

"Fuck me, goddamnit."

Quickly, Wrench took off his fringed coat, tossing it to the floor. Once he removed his jeans and underwear, he stroked his own cock; it pointed right at Numbers. His dick was long and thick. Wrench spit into his hand and coated his cock with saliva. He inched closer until his member was lined up with Numbers' hole, and pushed inside.

It burned a little since they weren't using proper lubricant. It didn't really matter to Numbers. He gasped, and gripped the tattered seat. It felt fucking amazing. He hadn't let anyone fuck him raw in years. The feeling of a cock rubbing against his walls was something so fantastic he could never find the right words to describe it.

The fact that it was Wrench doing this made it even better.

Once Wrench's entire length was sheathed inside of him, Numbers thrust forward. "Move!"

Wrench smiled down at him, taking his entire cock out except for the tip,and slammed into Numbers, bottoming out.

Little breathy, high-pitched moans escaped from Numbers' throat. He squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head back towards the window. He was sure that the car must have been shaking. It must have been pretty obvious what they were up too.

The slap, slap, slap, of Wrench's balls on his bare ass fucking drove Numbers crazy. It was so damn erotic and satisfying to know that every time he heard the noise, Wrench was buried deep inside of him as far so he could go.

Wrench was _fucking him_.

Fuck.

His partner reached out and pressed the palm of his hand on Numbers' chest, directly over his heart. His thrusts slowed down, no longer the punishing pace as before. Wrench would ease all but the head if his cock out of Numbers' used hole, then gently and achingly slow, push himself back inside.

"You're killing me," Numbers complained.

He watched as Wrench moaned, pressing his hand harder against Numbers' skin. He rubbed circles on his chest with his thumb. All of a sudden, Wrench shifted, taking one of Numbers' legs over his shoulders, thrusting at a different angle than before.

Now Numbers moaned shamelessly. The sounds emitted from his mouth were needy whimpers. He murmured incoherently, words that he hoped Wrench couldn't interpret. He could tell that he was close. Numbers rubbed his hand on Wrench's shirt, _"Please, please, please."_

Wrench relented, grasping Numbers' bobbing erection, pumping it in time with each thrust. Numbers bit his lower lip, turning his face to the back of the front seat. Everything felt so damn good. He was blushing wildly, which Numbers thought was embarrassing. He made sure to keep his mouth tightly closed. He didn't want to say anything he'd regret later.  
He gasped which turned into a satisfying moan as he came, his cum covered his stomach and Wrench's hand. 

There was a tap on his shoulder, and Numbers turned his head back to Wrench, his partner's eyes bore into his. Numbers thought if he hadn't already come, he'd orgasm at the look Wrench was giving him.

Wrench stilled, deep groans escaping his throat as came inside of Numbers, jets of white cum plastering his walls.

Numbers thought that it was the hottest thing in his life.

They both stared at each other, catching their breaths. The Camaro stank of cum and sweat. 

Wrench lowered Numbers' leg with care as he pulled out. Numbers whimpered at the loss. Wrench twisted and sank down, laying his head on Numbers' chest. Numbers savoured in Wrench on his chest, as it rose and fell with his breathing. He stroked Wrench's short hair, feeling the coarse texture between his fingers. Cum was leaking from his ass, and staining his thighs and the car seat. This was _bliss_. He felt _loved_. 

Then he recalled Mr. Safe and Ms. Rope.

Everything came crashing down all at once. Numbers couldn't get a break, could he?

He tapped Wrench's shoulder and his partner looked up at him quizzically.

Numbers breathed in through his nose, and let out a long exhale. "We can't ever do this again."

~~~~  
  
They were on a long stretch of highway somewhere north of Corpus Christi heading back home to Austin. In every direction all Numbers could see were vast prairies; only a half hour ago his view was of marshland. Who the hell knew that Texas had marshes? He'd lived in the state for over five years, but this was something he had never known. Maybe Wrench was aware of it since he was a native Texan. It could be something they taught in the Texan school system, but after that it was deemed _not important_.

They hadn't passed another car for almost forty-five minutes. The sun was really starting to get on Numbers' nerves. He had his sunglasses on and the visor down, but the sun was still glaring in his face as they traveled. He wondered if he'd get sunburn just from sitting in the car. He'd always been slightly on the paler side. And despite that _both_ of his parents and his older sister tanned beautifully in the sun, it seemed as though any sunlight that touched Numbers' skin would simply fry him. Texas sun had treated him like shit in the last few years.

It was hot as Satan's _balls_ in the car. All four windows were rolled down, but it hardly mattered since there wasn't so much as a breeze outside. The AC had broke a few jobs ago, and Numbers' hadn't bothered to go to a _legit_ garage and get it fixed. At first, he had approached the guys at Fargo's chop shop, but they'd waved him off saying that they could only use the shop was for _business purposes_. It pissed him off, because driving his car across the country for hits should be considered business. _Fuck them_. 

They had gone to Corpus Christi for a hit. A pimp for male prostitutes was head of the Mott crime family. They went to the gay night club the pimp owned. It was ridiculously simple for Numbers to chat up the guy. The pimp had been enthusiastic as well. He'd ran his chubby fingers through his beard, nuzzling as pressed his lips to Numbers' pale neck, sucking at his skin. The guy even had the balls to palm his clothed dick right there at the bar.

The pimp invited him back to one of the private rooms. As the guy was dragging him away, Numbers' eyes met Wrench's. His partner looked furious. It appeared as though at any moment Wrench was going to break his glass. It had sent shivers down his spine. 

Now, he kept glancing over at Wrench. His partner hadn't said a word the entire ride. Wrench kept his eyes on the road, giving it one fuck of a deathly glare. He was gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles had turned white. Numbers had no clue why Wrench seemed so pissed. He knew that his partner had gotten more aggressive than normal when he killed their target with his bare hands. However, Numbers didn't know what set him off.

Numbers tapped Wrench's shoulder. When his partner _finally_ took his eyes off the road, he signed, _"Are you O-K?"_.

Numbers kept his eyes on his partner. For a while, he thought Wrench was going to ignore him. He didn't answer for several minutes. It worried Numbers. What the fuck was up with Wrench? Nothing in Wrench's face indicated that was thinking over his question. Number was fed up and was about to tap his shoulder again, when Wrench answered.

He pressed his index and middle fingers to his thumb and shook his head. 

Numbers sighed deeply. _"What's wrong?"_

This time, Wrench didn't answer at all. He clutched the wheel tighter, and hit the gas, zooming them down the highway. Numbers leaned over and checked the speedometer. His eyes bulged when it read over 90 mph. He knew they'd been going by pretty fast, but fuck.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Wrench didn't respond, concentrating on the road once more.

Numbers sunk lower in his seat. He was a bit annoyed at Wrench, but what could he do?

Sometimes, he thought the car still smelled of sex. I'd been a little over two months since _the incident_. Wrench had been angry then, so much that he refused to speak to Numbers for three days afterwards. Numbers hated it. Even though their communication was mostly through ASL, he had missed their conversations. Finally Wrench had given in once they had been assigned a new job. But neither of them spoke about having sex in the back of the Camaro.

Wrench turned off the interstate once there was a sign for a rest area, slowing the car to an acceptable speed. He parked in a space that was pretty far away from the main entrance. He cut off the ignition, and without a pause got out of the car and slammed the door. Number sighed, running his hand over his face. What the fuck was going on?

Numbers followed his partner across the empty parking lot. He caught up with Wrench at the snack machines. Wrench was banging his fist against the glass in irritation, his face twisted into an ugly grimace. When his partner caught sight of him, he growled. Numbers stopped dead, balling up his fists.

Wrench pushed off the vending machine and stomped over. He grabbed hold of Numbers' forearm and dragged inside the nearby bathroom. All the while, Numbers was cursing up a storm, demanding answers.

Wrench threw him into the first empty stall, forcible shoving Numbers against the light blue metal wall. 

Numbers exclaimed, "What the fuck?!"

 _"You let him touch you,"_ Wrench signed. _"You let him grope your cock, suck your neck and mark you."_ He brushed his fingertips along the bruise their target had left.

Numbers breathed heavily. "It was for the job."

Wrench shoved him harder. _"It hurt me."_

Numbers was about to say something, asking how exactly he'd hurt his friend, but Wrench interrupted.

_"I know what you said in the car."_

Numbers knew what he meant. No explanation needed. 

_"I feel the same way,"_ Wrench signed. _"I wouldn't have fucked you otherwise."_

Numbers crashed his lips against Wrench's. He gripped his partner's jacket pulling Wrench closer. He made quick work undoing Wrench's buckle, this jeans falling to the dirty floor in a heap. Wrench took off his jacket and shirt, revealing his toned body and the tattoo on his stomach. 

Wrench in turn, tore at Numbers' clothing, throwing his dark jacket to the floor, carelessly ripping at the buttons of his nice shirt, tossing them to the ground with the rest of their discarded clothing; his pants and underwear following suit.

His partner went straight for his neck, inhaling his scent and mouthing where the pimp had left a hickey. Numbers couldn't help but arch his neck to give him more access. Wrench put his right hand on top Numbers' 'boundaries' tattoo, and his left hand thumbed over his heart.

Numbers pulled away. "Why do you do that?" he asked and pointed to Wrench's left hand.

_"I like feeling the vibrations you make when you talk… When you moan."_

Numbers groaned. Fuck that was hot. He tightly wrapped his arms around Wrench's neck to help him as he wrapped him legs around his partner's waist.

Once they steaded, Wrench entered him, no lube, not even spit to help ease the way. Numbers felt hot tears threatening to roll down his cheeks. _This fucking hurt._ It was a little better that Wrench was going achingly slow. It helped him adjust to the pain. When he grew accustomed to Wrench's large girth inside of him, he complained, "Go, goddamnit!"

Wrench stared at him intensely for a few seconds, as if he searching for the truth. He gave no warning, Wrench thrust up into Numbers roughly. 

Numbers let go, his cries echoing around the bathroom. His head almost banged on the wall a few times. Numbers' buried his face in Wrench's neck, kissing the skin, leaving his own marks on his partner. He whimpered as Wrench hit his prostate over and over. He threw his head back and looked into Wrench' light eyes. Numbers was a complete wreck. Sweat shown off his skin, hair a mess, lips swollen. 

Numbers took a chance, "Wes," he whispered Wrench's real name. "Wes, Wes, Wes… I love you. Don't leave me. I love you, I love you. Always have. Wes... Fuck, _Wes_..."

Wrench's eyes dilated as he growled possessively. He brutally thrust into Numbers, tightened his grip on his hips. Numbers figured hat there would be bruises later. For a second, Wrench took his hand off Numbers' hip and fingerspelled _"G-R-A-D-Y_ ," then he threw up the sign for 'I love you'.

Fuck, it made it so much more _real_.

Numbers sobbed, hiding his face into the crook of Wrench's neck again, muffling his cries as he came untouched. Wrench followed a moment later, flooding Numbers' ass full of cum.

Wrench eased out of Numbers' body, and helped him as Numbers lowered himself so his feet touched the ground. Numbers kept his arms around his partner's neck, afraid that he would fall over if he let go.

Wrench dictated for Numbers to turn around. Numbers craned his neck to see what Wrench was planning. Still, Numbers gasped in surprise. Wrench parted his ass cheeks, wiping away the cum and blood 

_"I'm so sorry,"_ Wrench signed. He was frowned as he gazed up at him with sorrowful eyes. _"Was it too much?"_

Numbers shook his head no. "I wanted it." When Wrench gave him a skeptical look, he continued, "Really. It was worth it."

Wrench wiped his stomach of Numbers' release. Then he threw the toilet paper in bowl, flushing it as he stood up, redoing his pants and putting his shirt and coat back on. _"Should stop somewhere to get you some antibiotic cream. I can't have you limping the next time we kill someone."_

Numbers laughed from his belly as they exited the bathroom, leaving behind a very shocked teenager standing at the sink with the water running.

As they got on the highway, the radio blasted some heavy metal that Wrench was fond of. Numbers' ass already hurt, and it was uncomfortable to sit. He was sure that he felt Wrench's cum dripping down his legs.

They had finally hit some traffic, so Wrench was driving a measly 6 mph.

Numbers tapped his partner's shoulder and waited for him to glance his way. "We can't let Fargo know," he stated.

Wrench gave a curt nod. The car came to a complete stop as the traffic halted. _"We're not as stupid as Safe and Rope,"_ he signed like he knew where Numbers' thoughts were going _"I won't let them hurt you. We'd run before letting something happen."_ His partner let his hand fall to the center console, palm up. 

He didn't think that Wrench could keep that promise. But as long as they had each other, it would be alright.

Wrench wiggled his fingers to entice him. Numbers shook his head, chuckling. He slipped his hand in Wrench's large one and squeezed. He looked up to see Wrench give him one of his rare, dorky smiles. There was enough time until the car ahead of them began to move, for Numbers to lean over and kiss Wrench's cheek. 

Hopefully Fargo would never find out.


End file.
